Without Your Voice
by RedSublime
Summary: Stan and Kyle have been in a horrible car crash and Kyle passes away. Stan is a mess and can't stop thinking of him. M for language. Stan/Kyle.


It had been a long time since I had seen him last. Four months to be exact. I thought I would pay him a visit, to show him that I haven't left him completely and he would always be in my life. Always. I started to feel squeamish and terrorized, the thought of him running through my mind. It all happened to him.

Kyle Broflovski.

He was singing along to an old CD I had bought years ago. I kept myself quiet, as I cherished his voice. I didn't know that was the last time I would hear it. My fingers were tapping to the beat of the song, and I wasn't paying any fucking attention to the road. Just to Kyle. His perfect skin full of freckles. Those bright emerald orbs that made me grin like a fool every time I saw them. His messy copper hair. His dorky green hat. I loved every little thing about him. That moment was when his last words were spoken. They weren't quiet, they were loud. A loud scream from a small, precious teenager.

"_STAN! OTHER WAY THERE'S A TRUC-"_

I cried when everything went quiet. I cried and I couldn't stop. I told Kyle to fucking wake up. I really thought he would. I thought it would be one of his stupid jokes that sometimes scared the shit out of me. But it wasn't. This wasn't a joke. This was real. All of this was fucking real.

Ever since he was taken away from me, all I would do was cry. I didn't care if I looked like a pussy in front of the whole school. Some people understood and told me everything would be alright. But I'm positive no one can get over their best friend's death.

It was now 4:30 a.m. I had a rose in my hand, one I picked myself just for him. I thought he would enjoy it. I stifled tears, knowing once I would get to the cemetery I would begin to bawl anyway. I finally found the courage to stand and walk out of my house with the herb's stem gripped between my fingers.

There it was. I read the epitaph written on his grave twice.

_HERE LIES_

_KYLE BROFLOVSKI_

_MAY 26, 1995 – MARCH 5, 2012_

_MAY HE BE FOREVER REMEMBERED._

_Damn right he better be remembered forever,_ I scoffed in my head. I sat beside his slightly polished gravestone and placed his flower lightly on a small pile of dirt in front of it. No one else could be seen from where I sat, so I started talking.

"Hey Kyle…"

Dammit, there goes a tear.

"I hope you're doing alright." I stared at the clouds above with a soft, shaky sigh. "I bet you are. I bet you're doing just fine." I paused for a few seconds and felt my body begin to tremble. "We all miss you down here. All of us. Most of all, me. God damn, Kyle it's completely different without you down here."

I let out a low whisper for the last sentence.

"I love you so much…"

My eyes were shut tight.

That's when all the memories of us both started flowing through my mind. Our first sleepover at my house. Our first day of elementary, middle, and high school. Our first kiss that was really just an accident. A picture of us gripping each other's hands. Our first time together in my car. The time I was drunk and he took care of me when I was hung over. So many things. Then it led up to this moment. This fucking moment I thought would never come. It had to happen to the person I loved most of all.

I glanced at the ground and saw small drops of water in the dirt. Was it raining? I smacked myself mentally and growled. _It's your fucking tears, idiot._

I stared at the road to my left. It was barely busy, but for some reason it was full of cars. I kissed Kyle's gravestone before standing again. Maybe this would turn out right. I had nothing else to live for. My family would get over my death soon enough. My friends would probably frown at the news, but they would let it go in a matter of days.

This was it. My chance to reunite with Kyle. My sweet Kyle.

I realized my last words were exactly what I wanted to tell him before I died.

_I love you so much._

I started running into the street.

Kyle was still on my mind.

He always would be.

Kyle.

Would he still love me if I reunited with him?

I couldn't think of an answer, because there was my killer.

A small car filled with Sheila, Gerald, and Ike Broflovski.


End file.
